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My Daughter's Smile

J. Lee Crow leaves his home in Western North Carolina every morning at 6:30, affording witches, psychotic clowns, and paranormal entities time for their impish antics, which often include hiding Mr. Crow's personal items and leaving the refrigerator door slightly ajar.

"Well," I smile, "that's the way little boys show they like you. He wouldn't pick on you if he didn't like you."

"Yea, well, I turned around and I put my hand up to his chest--

"You didn't knock him back, did you?" I interrupt. "You know, the way you did me that time?"

"I started to," she says, "but I remembered what you said. I can't do that anymore, especially not at school. I'll get in trouble."

"Yes, you will, and again when you get home."

"I know," she says, rolling her eyes.

"So, what did you do?" I ask.

"I just looked at him mean and turned around and walked away. But then, I saw him, you know, in my head. He was coming up behind me. He was gonna do it again. But, somebody," she looks up at the ceiling with that same devilish smile, her index finger lightly tapping her cheek, "somebody tied his shoelaces together, and he fell on his face."

I almost blow peas out my nose. Yea, it's tough being a single parent sometimes. Maybe after her bedtime, maybe I can sneak a beer.